Where Hands Can't Reach
by Nakimochiku
Summary: he felt so dirty, so ashamed. but grimmjow was so safe. oneshot, grimmichi, sad, molestation and mentioned shota. trust me, it's good.


WHERE HANDS CAN'T REACH

_was listening to three days grace's never too late, and coupled with my sudden love for Grimmichi, I decided I should write this. Slight AU. Enjoy._

It wasn't something Ichigo told everybody. It wasn't something that lots of people knew. Those thoughts from way back, when he had been an innocent child. No. This was something he was ashamed of. This was a secret he would die with.

No one could know what had happened in that room with his uncle, so many years ago.

He didn't even want to remember. It had been buried in his memory for so long, ignored, shoved away.

Until his uncle's death. When he just heard his uncle's name, saw his cold and lifeless face, it was like he was there again. It was like that pain was starting all over. It was like he was a helpless little boy who couldn't stop those perverted roaming hands. It felt like he was weak.

He knew now that he was safe. If his uncle had tried something like that on him now, things would have turned out different. If only he hadn't been so frightened. If only he had told someone the first time, or the second. If only he hadn't been so weak.

Ichigo curled up in his bed, trying to portect his body from imaginary hands. Clammy wrinkled skin on his body, under his clothes. There was nowhere to run, there was nowhere safe, there was no shield. Tighter and tighter he curled, wishing he hadn't gone to that funeral.

He felt sick, like he was gonna die. He felt so violated, so ashamed. He rubbed his shoulders with his palms, trying to get that icy cold chill from his bones.

The was surely gonna kill him.

There was a tap at his window, and he froze in fright as irrational possibilities poured through his head like the rapids of a river. He looked up, fear and sickness etched into his face, only to be calmed down when he saw the insane grin of Grimmjow.

The window burst open, letting in a woosh of cold autumn air. "I've never seen you look so relieved to see me, Shinigami." Grimmjow said as he stepped through the small portal.

"Go away." Ichigo groaned. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to stop that sick feeling of clammy wrinkled hands over his body. He wanted to stop feeling pitiful.

He wanted to feel safe.

The arrancar frowned at the teenager's response, who right now looked more like a frightened child than the warrior Grimmjow knew him to be. "You look sick, Shinigami."

"Shut up and go away." Grimmjow jerked the boy's head up, gazing into amber eyes, trying to figure out what his problem was. "DON'T TOUCH ME!"

"What's wrong?" Grimmjow asked, sitting himself on the young shinigami's bed, saying, in a way, that he had all the time in the world.

"Nothing." Ichigo mumbled. He wondered what it was about Grimmjow's presence that made him feel so secure. As if he had chased the hands away.

"There's something wrong. You look like someone you love died." the espada glanced at him, giving him a look over. He did indeed make a sorry sight. He felt so sick. He wanted to run and hide and never come out. No matter how many time he told himself the old perverted bastard was dead, it didn't feel like it.

"I don't wanna talk about it." Grimmjow grabbed him, held him close to his bare chest, looking at him deep in the eyes. Ichigo didn't know Grimmjow's eyes were such a perfect shade of ice blue.

"Hey! I'm being nice and not attacking you, and even giving you someone to talk to. Whatever it is, I won't think any less of you. You're still a great warrior in my eyes. You're still my rival." he let the shinigami go, crossing his arms and waiting for an answer.

Ichigo sighed. He felt weak again. He felt desperate. He wanted to dig a hole and shrival up and die. He was just so ashamed, so violated. He curled in on himself again, as if it would save him. He didn't return Grimmjow's gaze. "When I was little..." he began, swallowing hard. His eyes started pricking with tears and he blinked to force them away. _'not in front of him, not in front of him'_ he thought. "When I was little, I went to a party with my family...at my uncle's place..." he swallowed again, this time harder as the scenes of that night played out before him.

A laugh here, music and shouting. Such a happy time it was supposed to be.

Grimmjow looked intently at him, Ichigo didn't know his gaze could be so calculating, so soul searching, so burning.

"While I was there...I was...molested...by my uncle..." he hugged his knees tightly. Now he was gonna get pity. And the last thing he wanted was pity.

"Did you tell anyone?" Grimmjow asked softly. Of all the responses Ichigo had expected to get, that hadn't been it.

"Would you?"

Grimmjow thought for a moment. "Yes."

Of course, Grimmjow was so brave. Grimmjow was strong. But he was weak. He couldn't tell. He just couldn't. He had felt so dirty. So wrong.

"So why are you crying about that now?"

"He died on Sunday. I had to go to his funeral, see his face again...he looked the same...exactly the same..." Ichigo shivered. He wanted the earth to just fall apart so he could die. His eyes became wet again, and he blinked away the tears. He was so weak, crying in front of his enemy, telling him his secrets. A sob escaped his throat, and then another, until he was crying without a thought. He hadn't cried in all that time. He hadn't even known that he'd needed to cry so much.

Grimmjow regarded the child for a moment, for that was what he was, a child. Inexperienced and naive. Truth be told he should leave the boy alone so he could learn from this and grow. but sobbing like that, like he hadn't cried in years, Grimmjow just couldn't leave him alone.

He tugged Ichigo into a tight embrace, rubbing his back and whispering soft meaningless words in his ear. Ichigo hiccuped, choked on a sob and sighed, finally stopping the flow of tears. Grimmjow was so warm, but so cold at the same time, as if his body couldn't decided which temperture was better. His chest was broad, perfect to lie on. He was so comfortable here. He felt so safe.

Here, he knew the hands couldn't reach him.

"Done crying?" Grimmjow said with a smirk. He pulled ichigo more into his lap, arms loosening. He rested his head in the shinigami's hair. Smelled like chamomile...

Ichigo scowled. "Why do you care?" he huffed, liking the feeling of the arrancar's skin against his cheek.

Grimmjow's smirk widened into an insane grin. "Because if you're like this, I can't fight you."

Ichigo knocked grimmjow's jaw with his elbow. "You're a one pattern person." he sighed. Here he knew he was safe. Here he knew nothing could ever touch him.

OWARI!

_Phew! (Cricks neck and twists wrist.) Wrote this in an hour or two. My mom was getting mad cuz she wanted to watch anime. Hee hee. But in the end she let me finish it. Was originally titled 'my black angel' but I changed it. Review review!_


End file.
